


Want

by wildarcana15



Series: Want, Take, Have [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Don't copy to another site, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Past Child Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Unrequited, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 10:41:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildarcana15/pseuds/wildarcana15
Summary: Grass is green, the sky is blue, and Dean is hot.Sam grows up treating all three as fact, because to him it is. Dean’s attractiveness is just something that makes up the bedrock of his life, an inescapable and fundamental principle of his world.He doesn’t realise until much, much later, that what he feels would be considered wrong.





	Want

Grass is green, the sky is blue, and Dean is hot.

Sam grows up treating all three as fact, because to him it is. Dean’s attractiveness is just something that makes up the bedrock of his life, an inescapable and fundamental principle of his world.

He doesn’t realise until much, much later, that what he feels would be considered wrong.

It’s funny, in a way. He’s always been told that brothers are supposed to love each other, supposed to protect and help and tease and hang out together. He’s always believed that there is no such thing as caring for someone too much. Until he realises there is, and he does.

He’s nine when someone first explains to him that it’s wrong to crush on your family, that it would be disgusting. Not in so many words, but the meaning is clear. His well-intentioned comments about how he loves his brother are mercilessly picked apart by his classmates, until he learns to add caveats. 

He loves his brother, but his music is annoying. He loves his brother, but he wishes he wasn’t so protective. He loves his brother, but he finds hugging him immature and embarrassing.

Except Sam kind of likes Dean’s awful music, because it’s something that is quintessentially Dean. His protectiveness makes Sam feel far safer than their Dad ever has. And he doesn’t just want to hug Dean - he wants to press himself as close as he can get, until there’s no space between them, until they breathe the same air and feel each other’s warmth.

He wants it so badly he’s almost numb with it.

He thinks it started when he was eight, though if he’s honest with himself it probably began well before then, back when they were even tinier and Dean sang hoarse and tuneless to help Sam sleep when he had nightmares.

But he’s eight in the first memory he clearly recalls where he actually found himself wanting Dean in a way that wasn’t clouded by childhood innocence.

He knows he’s eight in the memory, because he was wearing a t-shirt that used to be Dean’s, that Dean resented growing out of, because Dean had just hit twelve and was getting taller, his voice not yet cracking but getting on it’s way.

He remembers being mad at Dad. He thinks maybe he was mad at him almost as often as he felt guilty for being angry. Either way, he’d been upset and frustrated enough to swear at John, and it had gone down like a lead zeppelin.

Sam still flinches at the memory of John raising a hand to him, squeezes his eyes tight and raises his hands a little. Except the hit never came. He heard the slap and felt no pain until he cracked his eyes open. 

He sees the scene in his mind’s eye, in excruciating detail.

_ Dean’s twelve, but he’s strong for his age, and he’s too old for his age too. It shows in how he looks, his green eyes bright with a complicated tangle of emotion, how his body and head know to roll with the hit to lessen the damage. And it’s even more evident in how Dean draws himself back up, pulls a slightly broken grin on to his face still marred with a red handprint, and squares his shoulders in front of Sam.  _

_ He doesn’t speak; which makes sense to Sam because Dean isn’t eloquent like Sam is, he doesn’t think of words as weapons when there’s a whole other language to be spoken in stubbornness and persistence. He doesn’t rail or lash out, he doesn’t weaken his stance by bothering with the fleeting victory of causing their father pain. He just stands there, insistent and implacable, making a message loud and clear.  _

_ Dad can’t hit Sam, because every time he tries, Dean will be there to take it. He’ll get in the way of every punch, without ever doing something so blatant as actively fighting John. Dean’s defence and offense are him taking his vulnerability and handing it over on a silver platter to their father, and refusing to be moved. _

_ Dean’s chin is tilted up just a little; not enough to be challenging, but just enough to be defiant. _

_ John stares at both of them, his eyes flickering between Dean’s calm and Sam’s wide-eyed horror, and he relents. He nods at Dean, once, and Dean nods back, and all at once, like a deal’s been brokered, the tension melts from the room. _

_ John grabs a beer under Dean’s scrutiny, and moves to the sofa, settling in to watch reruns on the TV, and it’s only then that Dean turns back to Sam. _

_ Even though Dean clearly took the hit, he moves into Sam’s space, dropping to one knee so he’s shorter than Sam is, and his thumb brushes across Sam’s cheek, right where John’s hand might have landed. His expression is brimming with concern and tenderness that he’ll never voice aloud, and it’s in that exact moment that Sam feels it for the first time. _

_ He’s small, tiny against the overwhelming size of the love Dean’s giving him, and he’s trapped in his skin and on fire with it, wants to dig his claws deep into Dean and never let go. It’s fierce, almost violent in its intensity, and it hits him with more force than the punch that never happened, knocks his knees out from under him with what Dean must assume is exhaustion or fear. _

_ Dean gathers him up, carries him to their shared bed, and doesn’t say a word about it being girly or baby-ish when Sam clings to him, arms wrapped around Dean’s neck so tight it can’t be helping his breathing. _

_ He doesn’t mean to start crying, but he does, tears soaking through Dean’s t-shirt, and it’s definitely got to be uncomfortable for Dean but he just lets Sam sob, strokes his hair gently until Sam’s stopped shaking apart with the magnitude of his emotions. _

_ Sam falls asleep with his awareness eclipsed by Dean’s rough fingers combing across his scalp and the comforting scent he associates with Dean, gun oil and metal and just a little spice because he likes to steal a different cologne for every town they visit. _

_ He doesn’t let go of Dean, even in his sleep. _

It’s a complicated mess - as it always seems to be with them. He’s not sure on the whys or the hows, and the when is hazy because it feels like it’s always been that way, like his love for Dean is a foregone conclusion that defies the passing of time.

What he does know is that he loves Dean and he also wants him. That he can’t help but notice how his jawline is elegant, his body muscled and strong under a layer of sturdy fat. How Dean bites and licks at his lips subconsciously, makes them flushed and gorgeous so Sam can barely focus unless he sharpens his defences by running through facts in his head.

He also knows that he can’t act on it; not if he wants to keep his brother with him. So he learns to hide what he wants and how he feels, and represses it all, like a true Winchester.

Until one day he can’t

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic for this fandom, please be gentle with me! Tell me what you think of this. There is more to come but I can be bribed by comments!


End file.
